Elena's POV
I still don't know why my stomach was doing backflips as we stepped into Adrian's parents' house. Maybe it was the elegance of the place — high ceilings, soft lighting, warm wood — or maybe it was the weight of Adrian's presence behind me, steady and protective, yet impossible to ignore.
"Don't be nervous," he murmured, just for me, his voice brushing my ear as his hand lightly touched mine. "They'll adore you."
I swallowed hard, nodding. The flutter in my chest wasn't just nerves. It was him — the way he always managed to make me feel both safe and dizzy at the same time.
---
The warmth hit me immediately. Not the kind from a fireplace, or polished wood, but a living, breathing kind — the kind that wraps around you and makes your chest ache in the best possible way.
"Adrian! And you must be…" Victoria's voice was soft, melodic, wrapped in kindness. Her eyes sparkled as she extended her hand to me.
"Elena," I said, shaking her hand, my pulse thudding. There was a strange comfort in her touch, as though she could see me in a way I hadn't even allowed myself.
"Ah… I feel like I know you already," she said, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Have we met before?"
I shook my head, cheeks warming. "I… don't think so."
Richard smiled warmly, eyes twinkling. "Or perhaps we've just seen the way Adrian talks about you."
My heart skipped. And as I glanced toward Adrian, he was watching me with that look — protective, possessive, and intensely intimate. When he passed behind me, his hand brushed mine. A simple touch, barely there, but enough to make my breath catch and my pulse race.
---
The evening unfolded in laughter, stories, and gentle teasing.
Richard shared tales of Adrian's childhood — his stubborn streak, his first business ventures, his perfectionism. I laughed along, but I couldn't stop noticing Adrian. He watched me in quiet, subtle ways — the tilt of his head, the softening of his eyes when I smiled, the ever-present awareness of my every movement.
At one point, Victoria leaned close, her hand covering mine. "You remind me so much of someone I knew a long time ago," she said softly. "There's something familiar… warm about you. I don't know why."
My chest fluttered. Familiar? Warm? Her words stirred something I didn't understand, yet I felt it too — a connection deeper than I could name.
"I… I hope I'm making a good impression," I whispered.
"You already have," she said, a soft smile tugging at her lips.
---
Adrian came to stand behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, without a word needing to be spoken.
"See?" he murmured, voice low, meant only for me. "I told you they'd love you."
I looked up slightly, catching the corner of his mouth lifting in that private, secretive smile. "They're… amazing," I whispered.
"They are," he said, leaning closer so our shoulders brushed. "But you… Elena, you make me nervous."
I felt my breath hitch. "Me?"
"Yes. You." His hand rested lightly on my back, warm and grounding. "Always."
My stomach fluttered. Every brush of his sleeve, every small touch, made my heart leap. I realized that no matter how warm and kind his parents were, it was Adrian — his nearness, his attention, the way he made me feel seen — that held me captive.
---
Victoria brought out a photo album next, and I found myself drawn to her stories, the soft anecdotes about Adrian's childhood, the laughter filling the room. Every so often, I caught Adrian watching me — his gaze intense, protective, and intimate in a way that made my pulse spike every time.
I realized, quietly, that I was caught. Not just in the warmth of this family, but in him — in every subtle touch, every glance, every word unsaid between us.
And in that moment, I didn't want to move, to speak, or to break the fragile, perfect silence.
I just wanted to stay there — close enough to feel him, yet far enough to be safe… though I knew, deep down, that being safe with Adrian Knight was never really an option.
The evening stretched on, full of warmth, laughter, and curiosity, with me suspended somewhere between admiration, fascination, and the ache of something I couldn't name… yet.